The Hoodlum's Law
by FraidyCat01
Summary: Since the death of two of their friends, Ponyboy and his gang promised to stay together. They were inseparable, until the day something terrible happened. Ponyboy knows what he needs to do, but will he be willing to help an old friend if it means making a new enemy?
1. Chapter 1

_**The Hoodlum's Law- FraidyCat01 **_

_**Chapter 1**_

"When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman, and a ride home," Darry read.

Soda was reading over Darry's shoulder, and looked at me funny when he heard this. Probably 'cause he didn't know what my essay was about. I had to write this paper for school (or I'd fail English bad). My teacher had said that if I came up with a good theme, based on personal experience, then he'd pass me with a C. Coming up with an idea was hard at first, but finally, I decided to make it on the past couple weeks of my life. A lot had happened, and my essay was really long, so when Darry asked to read it, I was kind if surprised. Darry was always real busy, and never had time for reading. He barely even had time for me and Soda, but he had insisted, so I let him, which had seemed fine at the time. But now, as he sat in the rocking chair, engaged in it, with Soda leaning over him, I was starting to think different about the idea. I wrote things in there that I don't mean now, like how I thought Darry didn't love me, and wanted to stick me in a boy's home. And how I didn't care for Dallas Winston much in the beginning. I do now, but maybe I didn't then. Thinking about my essay made me think about how much things have changed since the beginning actually happened. When I was jumped by those Socs, when Cherry Valance asked me and Johnny to sit with her. My stomach gave a lurch. Johnny. Johnny Cade. The same Johnny Cade that died in the hospital only weeks ago. I wanted to forget, believe me, I did. But Johnny had been my buddy, and you just don't forget about these things over night. Sodapop told me I just needed time, but no period of time was going to help. I'll never forget Johnny. Not even when I'm an old man...

"You should've let those Socs give you a haircut, Pony. You sure need it." Sodapop laughed. I only stared at him.

"I do not!" I replied, "Ain't nothing wrong with my hair."

"You do need one, Ponyboy." Darry told me, looking up from my essay. I couldn't tell what he thought of it, and I didn't want to ask. I also didn't want to argue with him, as we promised Soda we wouldn't as much, but cutting my hair was a definite no. Darry and Sodapop had long hair, and needed one too- all of us Greasers did. We never cut our hair. Besides, when we greased it back, it was short enough anyway.

"I don't need a haircut." I said. Darry cracked a smile.

"It's two different colors now that the brown's coming back, kiddo." he said. "And two different lengths. From cutting it with a knife, no doubt. But I have to say, Johnny did a pretty good job on it..." he stopped suddenly and looked at me. "Ponyboy..." his voice was soft, like he expected me to burst into tears then and there. Well let me tell you, I wasn't. I knew he knew Johnny was a touchy subject around me. But sometimes, someone would bring him up out of habit, and I had gotten used to the idea. I could talk about Johnny, I just preferred not to. Same with Dally. I never talked about either of them if I could help it though, because I hated the way people, especially Darry, looked at me when I did. He thought it would bring back memories, which it did, but I was fine. For the most part. Besides, it was Two-Bit I was really worried about. Out of all of us, he was the one who had taken Dally's death the hardest. He didn't talk as much, and had become all moody and just kind of kept to himself. If you knew Two-Bit Matthews, and you knew him well, then you'd know there was something wrong with him. Me and Soda, although we knew that this wasn't the only reason, had a theory that part of Two-Bit's problem was that the police wouldn't give him his switchblade back. We seemed to be the only ones who noticed a change in Two-Bit, however. Darry was too busy to notice anything, and we didn't dare ask Steve, or he'd think we'd gone crazy or something. Steve was his regular self, still hating everything and everyone, but even _he _had changed some. He had been drinking more, and got arrested all the time. This had started just after Johnny's and Dally's death. Sodapop hadn't changed much, although, he had been keeping up the wisecracks lately. To make up for Two-Bit, I think. I guess we all had our own ways of dealing with Dally and Johnny. Me, well, I just did my best to hide whatever emotions I was feeling, especially around Darry. It did hurt sometimes, but I wasn't about to show it. Greasers have to be good at concealing their emotions. It was what made us tough. So I forced myself to smile.

"It's okay," I told Darry calmly. I nodded to the stack of papers on his lap. "Keep reading." I smiled as Soda's eyes went back to my essay at once. Darry's eyes were on me, studying me, looking for any emotion on my face that would show I wasn't alright. I looked away, feeling uncomfortable. Darry just didn't get that I could stand hearing about Johnny without breaking down. Most of the time.

I glanced out the window. Dusk was beginning to fall, and the sky was a pinkish color from the sunset that was now forming. I stared at it for a while. I loved sunsets because they reminded me of a lot of things. Firstly of Cherry Valance, the only Soc who I could actually talk to about things like this. Secondly, a poem by Robert Frost called Nothing Gold Can Stay. I loved that poem, especially now that its meaning was clearer. Thirdly, and for tonight only, that sunset reminded me that our clock was broken, and that I really had no idea what time it was. I asked Darry, and before he could answer, Soda cut in.

"7:30." he said. "And that Soc girl really could make you talk. Why'd you tell her about Mickey Mouse?"

I felt my ears go hot. I knew there was a reason that I didn't want them reading this. Mickey Mouse was Soda's horse that got sold a long time ago. Soda didn't like talking about him, but at the moment, he didn't seem angry, so I told him the truth.

"Cherry wanted to know more about you, and Mickey was the first thing that came to my mind. I'm sorry, Soda." I said. I then turned to Darry. "I'm going for a walk, and maybe hunt up Two-Bit to see if he wants to come." Darry looked leery about me going out at this hour, because as soon as you dragged Two-Bit into it, a "little walk" turned into an all-night party, but it wasn't a school night, and Darry gave in.

"Just be careful, and be home by 9:00." he said. "And tell Two-Bit I say hi," he added as I closed the door.

"Will do!" I yelled back. This had become my usual response whenever Darry threw in things like "be careful", or "be home by…", or "Ponyboy, whatever you do, don't…." They were just habits we had both developed. Ever since my concussion, Darry had been way stricter with me. One might say he was overprotective. He had to know where I was every minute of everyday, it seemed like. That was his way of dealing with things, I guess. I had just started down the path in front of the house, when I heard the screen door slam, and then someone was calling my name. I turned and saw Soda who was running towards me.

"Ponyboy," he started. I looked at him.

"What?" I asked, already knowing what he was going to say.

"I'm sorry if I sounded a little rough back there," he said, "It's just that I haven't heard about ol'Mickey in quite some time, and it brought back some old memories. I guess I was just surprised is all." He looked at me, waiting for my response.

I nodded, but didn't say anything. I didn't need to. Both Soda and I knew it was fine. Over the past couple of weeks, everyone in our "gang", as we now referred to ourselves, was trying to be on his best behaviour toward each other. That meant that no matter how much we were hacked off at each other, we just had deal with it in our own way without settling it with fists (which, believe me, is much harder than it sounds when you have people like Two-Bit and Steve in your everyday lives). But, as Sodapop had explained, "We're all we have left now, and if we start in on each other, well then, there's really no hope then, is there?" He told that to me one night after Darry and I were arguing over whose turn it was to do the dishes. Darry and I did have our differences, but we hadn't had a real fight in forever, and that was the only time Soda's usually reckless eyes looked dead serious. Probably because Darry and I had promised that we weren't going to fight any more, and I guess what we were doing qualified as fighting. We had now stopped for good, and I mean it, because serious just didn't suit Sodapop at all, and I didn't ever want to see that look in his eyes again.

"C'mon, I'll race ya!" We had just reached the park, and Sodapop thought it would be terribly brilliant to challenge me to a race right then and there. Usually, I'm always up for one, but to tell you the truth, racing was the last thing I wanted to do right now. I wasn't worried about losing—I could whip Soda in running a race any day. Part of it was that I don't think I was fully recovered just yet. I had just gotten over a mild concussion, and sometimes, running gave me a headache. And the other part was that being in the park brought back memories of Bob's death, and Dally sending Johnny and me to Windrixville, and I preferred not to think about that if I didn't need to. When I said I could think of Dally and Johnny without it hurting, I only meant sometimes. There were times when everything I saw reminded me of them, it seemed like. And in those times, it hurt. And I was beginning to think now was one of those times.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2**_

I took off running anyway and easily caught up to Soda who had a pretty decent head start. I still beat him, but not by much. It didn't seem to bother him any, and he flopped down on the grass, breathing hard and grinning in spite of himself.

"No wonder you still made track," He gasped. I felt a moment of pride. No one, not even me, thought I was going to make the team, being in the condition I was at the time. But I pulled through. Darry was real proud of me. So was my coach, who was counting on me this year. I lay down beside Soda. The grass was wet—it had rained earlier today—and it felt sort of nice. For a while, no one said anything, and we just lay there breathing hard. I closed my eyes.

"Hey, Greasers!" Although the voice sounded familiar, it still made us both jump out of our skin. I opened my eyes to see Two-Bit standing over me grinning from ear to ear. "Gotcha!" he grinned. Soda smirked, then leaped up and tackled Two-Bit, easily pinning him down.

"Gotcha," Soda said, and I cracked a grin. I picked myself up, and Soda helped Two-Bit up.

"So, what are a bunch of Greasers like yourselves doing in a place like this?" Two-Bit asked, which was a joke because the park had become like an unofficial hang-out for our gang. As long as we didn't go on the side with the fountain.

"Looking for action," Soda cracked.

"Well then you're in the wrong place," Two-Bit replied. He seemed serious, even though Sodapop wasn't.

"Excuse me?" Soda asked.

"Well, I'm just sayin'," Two-Bit said, "If you're looking for action, you should go over to Picket and Sutton. Me, Tim, and Steve were down at the drugstore, and some guy pulls up in a Harley motorcycle." I wanted to ask Two-Bit how exactly he and Tim came to be best buddies, but he went on. "Anyway, apparently, he and Shepherd have a history, 'cause as soon as the punk got off his motorcycle, he and Tim had it out. I've never seen Tim so angry, and believe me, that's saying something."

I let that digest, and tried to form an image in my mind of what Two-Bit had just said. It wasn't hard. Tim was always fighting, it seemed like. That's why I don't ever plan to become a hood. Fighting and beating people up, despite whether I knew them or not, just didn't appeal to me. Soda asked the question I was going to.

"Where's Steve?"

"I dunno," Two-Bit shrugged, as if saying "Why worry about him?" Two-Bit and Steve can be real tight sometimes. But Soda seemed kind of worried, so Two-Bit went on. "He's back with Tim in case old Shepherd needed backing up."

"So you just left him?"

"Nah. Well sort of. I came to find you all. In case you wanted in on the action."

"No thanks," I wanted to say. I wasn't itching to get involved in Tim's past, which was, to say the least, bad. If there was a fight between him and an "old friend", then I was headed in the other direction.

"How thoughtful of you," Sodapop told Two-Bit. "Now let's go get Steve. It's Tim's business, not his, and if the fuzz show…." He had a right to be worried about Steve. Aside from the fact that they had been best buds since grade school, Soda was concerned about him. Steve's old man had told him that next time he got arrested, he wasn't going to bail him out. Not sure why he said that, but it would be a waste for Steve to get jailed fighting some guy who probably wasn't gong to stay here for more than an hour.

"Okay, but just so you know, if the cops had showed, and I had stayed there, my being there wouldn't have stopped the cops from arresting Steve," Two-Bit said. It was true, but at least they could back each other up that way. Sodapop had already started running in the direction of Picket and Sutton, and I don't think he heard, and if he did, he was doing a pretty good job of ignoring Two-Bit. This wasn't always easy.

As we ran, I didn't see any signs of cop cars, which was good. But I was starting to get a headache, which was bad. I wanted to ask Soda if we could slow down just a bit, but then he'd just worry, and he already was worried about Steve, so I just kept my mouth shut. The headaches usually passed within half an hour or so anyway.

To tell you the truth, I was a little worried about Steve myself. It was never a good thing when someone in our gang got hauled in, especially if the reason wasn't entirely their fault. Two-Bit suddenly skidded to a halt in front of me so fast that I almost crashed straight into him.

"What's the deal?" I asked.

"We're here, smart one." he replied, but he didn't really need to tell me. My vision had cleared up enough for me to make out the small, dusty, Greaser hangout that was Picket and Sutton. I heard a lot of yelling and cussing, and turned my head in the direction it was coming from. What I saw wasn't exactly what I had expected. Steve was sitting on the hood of a red Plymouth drinking a Pepsi, looking bored out if his mind and Tim was picking some guy up out of the dirt. Tim's nose looked broken -again- and he had a nasty-looking cut on his left cheek, but other than that, there was no evidence that he had been in a hard core fight like the one Two-Bit told us about. I couldn't see the other guy's face (his back was turned away from me), but I didn't think it was much worse. Steve hopped off the car and came strolling over to where we stood bewildered. He must've seen the looks of surprise on our faces, as he shrugged, indicating that he didn't understand what was going on either.

"They were really going at it," he said jerking his thumb in the direction Tim and the stranger, "but they stopped when Tim's nose got broken. Not too soon after you left, Two-Bit." Steve eyed me, like he didn't approve me being there. "What? So now I can't even come along when we want to attempt at bailing you out of jail?" I thought. Emotions were probably pretty clear on my face, something that always happens when I get real upset, as Steve gave me a puzzled look.

"Jeez, kid, the way you was glaring at me, you'd think I'd just called you every dirty word known to man. What's up?"

"Nothing," I lied. I felt a bit silly. Maybe Steve didn't intentionally look at me like that. Maybe he wasn't even looking at _me_. I needed to give that guy a break. Steve merely shrugged, his attention turning back to Tim, so I figured it hadn't bothered him enough for him to do anything about it (not that he would with Sodapop here). I looked too, and saw that Tim and the guy were coming over to us.

"And who do we have the pleasure of meeting today?" Two-Bit asked in a weird voice (it kind of reminded me of the one he used while making fun of the Socs saying "Get thee hence, white trash so many weeks ago).

"Guys, this is...who are you again?" Tim began, a huge grin on his face, indicating he was joking. He received a playful punch on the shoulder from the guy he was introducing (to me, that "playful punch" would have been like getting run over by a steam engine, but I guess that was one of the differences between me and a hood.) Anyway, the guy Tim was introducing turned his eyes toward us, and I noticed they were green.

"Hello, amigos, my name is Sergio," he began.

He spoke in a very thick Mexican accent, and I stared at him, taking him in for the first time. He was tanned, like Johnny, except a bit darker, and his black hair was long and wiry, coming down to his shoulders. He had on an orange shirt underneath a black leather jacket that was worn at the elbows. His eyes, aside from being green, had a sort of hard, seriousness to them. They almost reminded me of Darry's, but more intense. His black jeans were worn and dusty, indicating that he traveled a lot (even Two-Bit did laundry; the only time anyone around here didn't was if they were too lazy, or had been travelling). It was pretty hard to miss the fact that he was no doubt, a hood. He had the entire get-up and attitude. I thought I had just about sized him up enough, when I noticed the black handle sticking out of Sergio's belt. Two-Bit noticed it too, and was quick in asking Sergio what it was.

"This," Sergio began, "is my most prized possession. It is a knife I won in a gang fight many years ago. I always keep it close-it's very valuable-and I never go anywhere without it."

Two-Bit made a small noise of disappointment beside me. He never did get his switchblade back, and never made the effort to retrieve another one. Store owners nowadays had gotten wise, so anything worth a Yankee dime was either under glass or strapped down. I could tell Two-Bit wanted that blade more than anything, and even I was a little more than impressed when Sergio pulled it out of the brown leather sheath it was in and I saw it for the first time. It was shiny silver, and long. I could see my reflection in the blade part, it was so shiny, and the handle was no disappointment either. Going up one side of it in strange spirals, were tiny green jewels. On the other side, the initials "S.H." were carved in. They were obviously his initials, but I wondered what his last name was. I always want to get a good feel for everyone I meet. When I asked him, Sergio looked at me, as if noticing me for the first time.

"Herrera is my last name, amigo," he said, "How old are you?"

I introduced myself, because getting called "amigo", cool as it was, wasn't exactly my dream. This time, I didn't feel self-conscious like I always do whenever I tell someone my name for the first time. I never got "That's your real name?", or "Really?", or one of the other remarks I sometimes got anymore, mainly because I was known by everyone around here because of Bob's death, or the Windrixville fire. However, my ears grew hot when I told Sergio my age. To me, he didn't look like someone who would accept guys my age willingly. Especially because I looked about as much like a hood as Two-Bit did a girl. But it didn't seem to bother Sergio in the least. I asked him for a cigarette. He handed me one, and I pulled out my lighter. I of course had my own cigars, but, for some reason, I wanted to prove something to him. That I could be a hood, even if I didn't look the part? You could say that, but mainly I think it was because I just wanted a cigarette at the moment. Sergio pulled four more out and offered one to Soda, Tim, Steve, and Two-Bit. The other three took one willingly, but Sodapop shook his head no. That was one thing I admired about Sodapop: he did what he believed, and stuck with it, even if it meant damaging his reputation. I wished I could be like that, but it was a rare quality to have. Sergio shrugged, and lit up Soda's cigarette for himself. It was quiet for a while. Those who had them took drags on their cigarettes, and Soda just stood there with his hands in his pockets, awkwardly trying to size up Sergio without him noticing. It must have been killing Soda, staying silent for this long, I mean. Usually he would have had a steady stream of wisecracks going, with no sign of letting up. Two-Bit was looking a little uncomfortable as well. I decided to put them out of their misery, and start up a conversation. I ground my cigarette, and looked at Sergio and Tim, mostly at Tim because I still wasn't entirely sure about Sergio just yet.

"So, how do you two know each other?" I asked them with genuine curiosity. Immediately, all eyes turned in Sergio and Tim's direction.

"We were best buds since high school," Tim replied, "We met in a fight." Huge surprise.

"Yeah, Tim saved my butt," Sergio told us, "I was in trouble with this guy for totalling his car after he ratted me out for skipping school. Anyway, Tim just happened to be strolling by, and since the other guy brought a couple of his buddies along for the show, Tim here, decided to back me up. To make it fair, you know?" he ground his cigarette before continuing, "Anyway, we became close after that, until Tim's family decided to move here. We were both living in Texas then." Sergio started laughing as he told us what happened next. "I remember I was so mad, I told Tim that the next time I saw him, I would beat the tar out of him for leaving me behind. I ran away at the age of nine from Mexico, and just sort of hitchhiked from place to place, and at that moment, Tim was pretty much the only family I had." Sergio elbowed Tim in the ribs gently.

"So, you just hitchhiked here?" Two-Bit asked in awe. I could tell he had just made himself a friend.

"Well, sort of," Sergio explained, his face reddening, "You see, I borrowed this motorcycle. Without permission. From some guy I met at a bar. But that doesn't matter. That was back in Texas. I'm probably only going to stay in this place for a couple more days at the most." Tim's face fell a little when Sergio said that last line.

"So, anyways," Sergio drawled on, "What do you do for kicks around here?"

_Play checkers._ I thought, remembering Dally's line from what seemed like a life-time ago. I smiled. Sergio looked at me in questioningly.

"What's up?" he asked me. I stopped smiling.

"Nothing," I answered, ignoring the weird look Sodapop was giving me at that moment, "We could go see a movie," I added quickly, without thinking. As soon as I said it, I wanted to kick myself. Seeing a movie would do nothing for my headache except maybe make it worse. Also, I told Darry I'd be back by nine, and if we saw a movie, it would kill that plan.

"Sounds good," Sergio said, "What good movies are playing?" I realized he was asking me. I shrugged.

"Let's just go and see." Sodapop answered. I looked at him as if he had come from another planet. "What?" he asked.

"Remember what Darry said?" I asked. I didn't want to rain on Soda's parade, but I really didn't want Darry mad at me. Even though Soda's in charge, Darry would still find a way to blame me, and we had been doing fine lately. I didn't want to ruin it.

"Let's just leave at nine, then." Soda insisted. I knew we wouldn't. Sodapop has no concept of time, whatsoever. I gave in. I like movies. Besides, Sodapop would do all the explaining to Darry. So I followed my brother, who was running to catch up with Steve.

The movie was about guns and police chases, and I knew I shouldn't have been allowed to see it since the opening scene. About half way through, I decided that I had had about enough, and watched the people in the audience instead. It was more interesting than the movie, anyway. Two-Bit was laughing his head off at some of the gory scenes, Soda had his feet up on the empty chair in front of us, and was looking like he was itching to start a popcorn fight with Steve, and Tim had gone to buy popcorn. Steve just sat there with a bored, blank expression on his face, and Sergio was right into the movie, with an intense look on his face. He kind of reminded me of the criminal in the movie. Maybe it was the hair. I still wasn't sure about Sergio. There was something I didn't like about him. I looked back at the screen, and turned away two seconds later. All I could think was "this is not worth fighting over with Darry".

After what seemed like a million years, the movie ended. The closing credits started rolling, and I jumped out of my chair –a little more enthusiastic than I meant to—but I really wanted out of there. Apparently Sodapop did as well. Somehow, he had gotten it through his head that Darry had wanted us home at nine, and not at whatever time it was now.

"C'mon," he said, "Darry's waiting for us."

"I told you…" I started, but Soda ignored me, and took my arm. We ran back home. Darry was sitting at the kitchen table reading. I was running over a bunch of excuses I had made up in my head, and was about to say my best, when Soda motioned for me to be quiet. Then he tiptoed to our bedroom. Some days, I think he could benefit from a trip to a mental hospital. Did he not think Darry would notice? He motioned for me to follow. I did, but not on tiptoes, because I was positive Darry had already noticed us, because as I passed the kitchen, I thought I heard him stifle a laugh. Either that or it was a sigh. I closed the bedroom door behind me, and then glanced at the clock. It read one in the morning. I gasped loudly. Sodapop put a finger to his lips.

"It's just because we took a long time at the store," he told me, reading my mind. Before the movie, Two-Bit insisted on buying a Coke. Why? I don't know, since they sell perfectly good Cokes at the movie theatre, but Two-Bit is hard to get sometimes. Once we got there, Sergio decided he wanted one, so Tim had to get one, and I swear Steve got one just to irritate me. They all took forever to drink them. The movie theatre people don't allow drinks bought outside of the movie theatre inside. We all thought it was a dumb rule, but with guys like Two-Bit, who would do anything to try and smuggle beer, I guess I can see why they made it.

"Yeah I guess." I said. I took off my shirt, and then after accidentally knocking over a pile of records I left on the floor, climbed into bed next to Sodapop. He sighed, then put his arm around me, the way I like it. Then he leaned over.

"By the way," he whispered, "You're as sneaky as a marching band."


	3. Chapter 3

_**Chapter 3 **_

The next day was a Saturday. I remember because I slept in really late. When I woke up, sunlight was streaming in through the window, half blinding me. I got ready to slip out from under Soda's arm, when I realized he wasn't there. _Did I ever sleep in, or what?_ I thought to myself. Sodapop must already be at work. I glanced at the clock, sighing in frustration when I remembered it was still broken. I'll have to get Darry to fix that. I'd fix it myself, only I didn't know how. I don't dig mechanical devices.

I heard the shower running in the other room. Darry must still be home. Sodapop probably walked to work today. He does that when the weather's nice, or when he's on a good schedule (which didn't happen often). Either that or he got a ride from Steve. I doubted that because Steve liked walking too. I walked into Darry's room, and opened the large closet where all of us kept our clothes. I took out a dark green shirt and some blue jeans. I was just pulling them on, when Darry came in. He had on a tight, black t-shirt and some blue jeans. His hair was still wet, which meant that he wouldn't have time to put any grease in it, which I think was fine by him.

"Look who finally got up." He said, "Have a good sleep?"

"Yeah." I was pulling my shirt on, and trying to think of something else to say to change the subject, but I was too slow.

"I'd be surprised if you didn't. You stayed up pretty late last night." His voice had an edge to it that I didn't like.

"Yeah," I said, "People tend to sleep in when they-"

"Stay up 'til past midnight the night before?" Darry finished for me. I gulped. This was _exactly_ what I had been trying to avoid. Darry saw the look in my eyes.

"I'm not mad at you, Ponyboy," he said, "You or Sodapop just should have come tell me where you were, is all. But no, it wasn't a school night, and it's greatthat you saw a movie, maybe even made a new buddy…" Apparently Sodapop told him about Sergio.

Now it was my turn to cut him off. "I wouldn't go so far as to call him a buddy." I told Darry. He gave me a puzzled look.

"Why not? Sodapop said that you all seemed pretty tight to me."

"Yeah…" I said, my voice trailing off. There was just something about Sergio I just didn't like. Darry's voice cut into my thinking.

"All right, kiddo, just listen," he told me. "If you don't feel comfortable around him, just ask Soda to bring you home. I'm sure he wouldn't protest. Besides, I could use some help around the house, anyway."

"It's not that I don't feel comfortable around him…." I started, but then stopped. It was no use in trying to say anything more. Darry had won that discussion fair and square. I really _didn't_ feel comfortable around Sergio, for reasons that I couldn't explain.

"Can I go down over to the DX?" I asked Darry. The DX was the gas station where Soda and Steve worked. Sodapop had promised me that he and Steve would let me help around the place if I ever got bored. Two-Bit was probably out somewhere shoplifting or something, and Curly Shepherd, who had just gotten out of the reformatory, was locked in his bedroom by his parents, or so Tim had told me last night. Darry would be off to work soon, so in other words, I would be bored in a matter of ten seconds after he left. Besides, an afternoon with Soda would be fun. Maybe Steve as well, because around Sodapop, he didn't treat me like a tagalong.

"Sure," Darry said, taken by surprise, "How come?"

"He promised to let me help him and Steve." I had already laced up my tennis shoes, and was heading for the door. It slammed behind me.

"Hey, Sodapop, hand me the wrench, will ya?"

Although I was just a few steps away from the entrance to the DX, I'm pretty sure everyone down the block could hear Steve's command. Sodapop's answer was as equally loud. Didn't those two know how to be quiet? Probably not. I'm pretty sure that part of the reason why they were being so loud was because Steve had the radio blaring again. I looked around for him, but couldn't find him. I finally spotted him underneath a rusty car. His oil-covered hand stuck out from under it, as if waiting for something. The wrench, no doubt.

"Where is it?" Sodapop was rooting through a large tool box on the other side of the store, but came up empty-handed.

"On the table, where I left it."

"I don't see it."

Smiling, I stepped into the store, grabbed the wrench from off the table where Steve said it was (I swear, sometimes Soda was blind), and handed it to an impatient Steve. He grabbed it from me right away.

"Thanks, Ponyboy," he said, taking me by surprise.

"How'd you know it was me?" I asked.

"Partly because of your shoes, and partly because the wrench was lying out in the open. Sodapop would never have found it," Steve sneered. I tried not to laugh for Soda's sake.

"He is hilarious, isn't he?" Sodapop said from behind me. He was as sarcastic as they come, but you could tell he wasn't bothered by what Steve had said one bit.

"A real riot," I agreed, still trying to wipe the grin off my face. I relaxed when I saw that Soda was grinning too. He had dirt and oil smudged onto his face and in his wheat-colored hair. When Steve wriggled out from under the car, I saw that he didn't look much different.

"Did you fix it?" Sodapop asked wiping his hands on his shirt. He left smudged, black hand prints down the front.

"Nah," Steve replied, yawning, "Engine's busted. It won't start. I've tried everything. But the owner won't be coming for it for a couple more days, so I have 'til then to figure out what the problem is."

"If you ask me, I think that car's seen its last days." Sodapop nodded towards it. I agreed, even though I knew nothing about cars. But even a blind monkey could tell that that rusty piece of metal wasn't going to run anymore. Steve shook his head.

"I can fix it. I just need more time," he insisted. Steve never backed down from a challenge. Soda started to say something, but stopped when we heard the yelling. All our heads turned simultaneously towards the door where we saw Two-Bit and Sergio standing a little ways away. They appeared to be arguing, as both were shouting, and Two-Bit was using some real cute sign language. Steve was the first out the door, closely followed by me and Soda. Neither Two-Bit nor Sergio seemed to notice us. I stayed back a good few feet because being in Two-Bit's way when he was in a fight was never fun, but Steve and Sodapop stepped in between the two of them.

"What's going on?" Steve demanded. He had Two-Bit, who was red-faced and, to say the least, mad, by the arm. Soda was standing in front of Sergio, who was more controlled. Sergio was the first to speak.

"Remember that knife I showed you yesterday?" he asked us, turning his glance from Two-Bit to us, "Yeah, well it's gone." Sodapop and I exchanged looks.

"What do you mean 'gone'?" Steve asked.

"What do you think?" Sergio snapped, "I set it down on a bench for one second while I started my motorcycle, and when I looked next, it was gone." He looked heatedly at Two-Bit, "Not too long before you showed up, buddy."

"Look, I said I didn't steal it!" Two-Bit snapped fiercely. He started to say something else, but Steve interrupted.

"What makes you think that he stole it?" he asked Sergio.

"Well, I don't think it was only a coincidence that my blade disappeared around the same time _he_ appeared." He pointed at Two-Bit, "Besides, I saw the way he was staring at it. I reckon he's stolen a few things in his lifetime."

"You know, Two-Bit wasn't the only one impressed by your knife, Sergio. Everyone thought it was cool," I piped up. That's why I usually keep my mouth shut in situations like this, because whenever I did speak, I somehow managed to make things worse. This case wasn't any different. Steve shot me a dirty look, and Sodapop sighed. Sergio's eyes went to each one of us thoughtfully.

"True," he said casually. But his tone changed when he said, "Then how do I know it wasn't any of you that took it?"

"Because what interest would any of us have in your blade when we all have our own?" Steve said, which was weird because, well, _none _of us had one. But I guess he was just bluffing to make up for what I had said. Sergio didn't have an answer to that, but I could tell he wasn't convinced we were innocent. Steve relaxed his grip on Two-Bit, who walked over to Sodapop.

"The guy's only been here a day. How could he have possibly lost something already?" I heard him whisper to Sodapop. Soda laughed, causing Sergio to lose it. Maybe, according to him, laughing was the same thing as saying "Hey look! I have your knife, but I'm not going to give it back unless you come over and make me!" Sergio took a swing at Sodapop, but Soda sidestepped, and instead of hitting Soda, like he was planning to, Sergio punched Two-Bit flat on his face. Blood gushing out of his nose, Two-Bit reached into his waistband, and pulled out a sleek, single-shot pistol. I wanted to say I was surprised, but I wasn't. Not only did Two-Bit never back down in a fight, he had to make sure he was involved in every way possible. But I definitely was caught off guard. Where in the Almighty universe did Two-Bit get the gun? Or maybe the question should be: who in the Almighty universe would be stupid enough to give Two-Bit the gun? But there would be time for questions later. Right now, I needed to stop Two-Bit before he did something bad. I made a move towards him, but Sodapop stopped me. He then looked at Two-Bit.

"Drop the gun, stupid," he said in a calm voice. Only Soda would have the nerve to call someone holding a gun "stupid". Two-Bit was already looking uneasy holding it. I think he made the decision of pulling it out a little too fast. He always makes quick decisions without thinking, especially when someone makes him mad.

"Yeah," Sergio taunted, "Listen to your friend. Drop the gun. Or is it even your gun? I'll bet you stole that too."

Any second thoughts that Two-Bit had about pulling out the gun were gone. He took a step towards Sergio, who laughed, mockingly.

"You don't think I can shoot you?" Two-Bit's voice shook with rage as he spoke, "Watch me!" He raised the gun. However, as he took another step, Sergio stepped forward and tried to pry the gun from Two-Bit's grasp. The two of them struggled for a second, and then the gun went off with a loud _BOOM!_ One of them had accidentally pulled the trigger. I froze, not knowing what to do, and then Sodapop was on the ground, hands clutching his shoulder. A dark pool was spreading around him, and his DX shirt was stained red. He had been shot.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Chapter 4**_

Steve was beside Sodapop in a flash. I pushed past Two-Bit, hadn't moved a muscle since that trigger had been pulled. I brushed past him, and knelt beside my brother. Sodapop looked at me.

"I-I-I'm..." he started, but Steve told him not to talk.

"Shot?" I finished for him. Sergio was yelling a lot of things, most of which were not too polite. And yet, he didn't seem at all worried about Soda.

"I just hope the cops don't show," he said to no one in particular, "This is the last place I'd want to get jailed in."

Steve snapped back something dirty in reply. I used the phone in the DX to call an ambulance, which came five minutes later. They put Sodapop onto one of those stretcher things, and then they loaded him in and drove away. I remember I was asked a lot of questions by the police, who also came: what happened, how, why, and so on. I don't remember what my answers were, or if they even made sense; everything seemed out of focus, and it seemed like I was watching the scene from a distance. Everything up to the shooting kept replaying in my mind—Sergio and Two-Bit struggling to be in control of the gun, the deafening sound of the gun going off, and then Sodapop falling to the ground, and all the while, I had just stood there, not doing anything, barely breathing. I couldn't rid my mind of it, no matter what I did. Just that scene over and over. My vision blurred, and I sat down right on the spot in fear that I might fall down if I didn't. A figure stood, just in front of me. A tanned, short figure, wearing a jacket. For a second, I thought it was Johnny. Then I realized it was Sergio. I hated myself for getting the two mixed up. I rested my head down on my knees for a minute, hoping that would clear my vision. It did, and when I looked up, I was almost wishing that my vision was still messed up. Everything didn't seem as real that way. To be honest, I still wasn't sure what had happened exactly. Something about a gun…. I turned my focus to something else, because I remembered what happened now, and I didn't want to. Two-Bit refused to talk to anyone, and only answered the policemen's questions with small nods and if necessary, small words. He was as white as a sheet, and his eyes were huge. The police hadn't even mentioned anything about jail time, because we had all convinced them that it was an accident, which it was, so we figured he was safe. For now. And by that, I meant for the next ten seconds. After the cops left, Two-Bit seemed to relax a little. And I'm pretty sure everyone began to breathe way better after I used a payphone to call the hospital, and they told me that the bullet had just grazed Sodapop's shoulder, and that he should be able to come home maybe even tomorrow. I asked if I could talk to him, and they told me not to push my luck, so I hung up the phone real quick. I told everyone what I knew. After hearing this, Two-Bit started to look normal, almost. If you were looking at him for the first time, you probably wouldn't be able to tell that his best friend had just been shot, I'll bet. But then Sergio came waltzing over. He didn't look a bit shaken, as if someone getting shot was just a normal occurrence in his wonderful hoodlum world. He looked us all in the eye before turning to Two-Bit. Two-Bit stared right back. I was mad enough already, but if they started with each other again, I think I would take great pleasure in killing them both. All I could think about was Soda. Darry had gone to the hospital too, as I learned when I phoned. I wanted to see Sodapop real bad, and hoped that what the person on the phone said was true: that he really _was_ coming home tomorrow. Two-Bit and Sergio were talking, and between my thoughts, I managed to hear bits and pieces of what they were saying. Neither looked angry, but Steve sure did. Two-Bit just looked shocked, and Sergio had his usual emotionless expression on as he told Two-Bit something. I heard him say something like "the hoodlum's law." Great. That sounded weird, dramatic, and really bad. I began to ask Steve what they were talking about, but he shushed me. I didn't think I was going to get much more out of him, so I just paid close attention to the rest of the conversation.

"The Hoodlum's Law," Sergio explained, "was a rule that I grew up following. It states that if anyone gets extremely injured in a fight, then the person who injured him or her is banished, and must leave."

"Easy for you to say," I said, ignoring the cold feeling of dread that was settling in the pit of my stomach. It felt like I had swallowed a huge piece of ice, "Everyone you grew up with was probably a hitchhiker. Leaving wouldn't have been a huge deal. We all live here, and you don't, so you don't get to call the shots as to who leaves and who stays." That felt good. But it probably would feel too good when Sergio pounded my face in, so I stopped talking before I got to what I really wanted to say to Sergio and his stupid laws.

"True," Sergio said, "But all the same, someone was… regrettably hurt in a fight. And I'm looking at the person to blame. And if any of you have a better idea, then please share." However, the tone of voice he used said _If any of you have a better idea, and step forward with it, I will kill you._ So we all kept quiet. I wished someone would say something, though. Sergio was in this as much as Two-Bit was, if not more, since he was the one who tried grabbing the gun in the first place. Sergio turned to Two-Bit.

"See?" he said. Two-Bit said nothing. He opened his mouth to speak, but didn't say anything. Then he turned and ran. He didn't look back.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Chapter 5**_

Sure enough, just as the doctor had told me, Sodapop was home the next day. Boy I was glad to see him! He couldn't do much, though. Just lie on the couch, and maybe walk sometimes. He was told to take it real easy, or he'd have to go back to the hospital. Already, I think we were pushing it with him coming home, but Darry convinced the doctor to let him. The first thing Sodapop told me was that he just wanted to put the whole thing behind him. I didn't think that was like him. Sodapop didn't forget things easily, even if he didn't hold grudges. Then again, as soon as he said this to me, he also told me that if Sergio didn't leave soon, he was going to ask Two-Bit to actually shoot him, so I figured he was fine. Soda kept bringing up Two-Bit. I tried changing the subject. I still wasn't sure how to tell Soda about Two-Bit running away. Two-Bit had a tendency to be dramatic, but he sure didn't come across as someone who would fall for something as dumb as The Hoodlum's Law, or whatever it was Sergio had called it. But I'd have to break the news to him sometime, so I told him. He didn't take it too well. At first, I thought he hadn't heard me, because after I finished, he just stared at me with a very confused look on his face. Then he started talking a mile a minute on how we shouldn't have let this happen, and how we need to stick together. I couldn't think of anything to say. He was right of course, but I didn't know what to do about it. Or did I…?

An idea was forming in my head. It was crazy, but it would work, and besides, what other options did I have? I was going after Two-Bit. I told Darry I was going for a walk, and he told me to wait for him. Probably because the last time I went for a walk, I managed to meet a hitchhiker who ended up shooting my brother. That was a fair reason for wanting to come along, I supposed. Darry told me he was ready, and we headed down the path. Darry coming on my "walk" kind of put a hold on my plans for finding Two-Bit. I'd just have to pretend I was going on an actual walk until I had more time to plan out what it was I was going to do. We heard footsteps coming up behind us, and turning around, we saw Steve, who was running to catch up with us.

"Where y'all headed?" he asked us.

"On a walk," was Darry's reply, and I could have sworn I heard the slightest bit of sarcasm in his voice. Maybe he was on to me.

"Huh," Steve replied. If it _was_ sarcasm in Darry's voice, Steve didn't seem to pick it up. "Well, I'm going to join you, if that's alright." he added.

"Since when do you need our permission?" I wanted to say, but thought better of it. Steve seemed pretty gloomy lately. I did, however, want to tell him that Sodapop was back. That would cheer him up for sure. In fact, it would get him and Darry talking, and maybe then, if they were distracted….

"Hey, Steve? Did I tell you that Soda's back?" I asked innocently. Steve stared at me, eyes large.

"He is?"

"Oh, yeah! Came just this morning. I'll bet Darry can tell you all about it!" Maybe I was a little too obvious on that one, but I really needed those two distracted so I could make my great escape. I wondered how long I'd have until Darry caught up with me. I decided it was definitely a good thing I was good at track. I didn't know where Two-Bit was, and I needed time. I looked over at Darry and Steve. They were having a deep conversation. Praying it was deep enough for them not to notice me, I inched further and further away from them. Then I started running. I sprinted full out, and didn't stop until I couldn't see Darry or Steve anymore. I hated leaving them there, but I knew I needed to see Two-Bit. I hoped they would understand. I knew Soda would. I was thinking a lot about what he had said, and I realized he was right. Two-Bit was our buddy, and we were supposed to stick together, not let a hitchhiker and a hood tell us otherwise. I knew I was supposed to feel guilty, but strangely enough, I didn't. I didn't feel anything partly because my head was starting to hurt, and partly because it still hadn't dawned on me exactly what it was I was doing. I looked back. I couldn't see them anymore, and wondered whether or not Darry was gonna come after me or not. I sure hoped he didn't. He would make me come home, and I really needed to see Two-Bit. I didn't think he'd listen to anyone else but me. Even then, seeing him now was risky. I stopped running. I was tired, and wished that I would have thought of bringing a jacket along. Next time I run away from a Mexican hitchhiker, hopefully I'll be better prepared.

Evening was coming fast, but it was too cloudy to see the sunset clearly. I then realized I really didn't have any idea where Two-Bit was. That was a depressing thought. For all I knew, he was in Texas. I looked around. Although it had only been about a half hour, I had actually run pretty far. I was at the DX in the outskirts of town. It was like the place Soda and Steve worked, but it wasn't the same station. Right idea, but they worked closer to home. It was amazing how far I could go when my mind was wandering. I thought about going back, but didn't. Instead, I kept going, only walking this time, because my head was throbbing. It was now almost completely dark- time to start looking for someplace to stop for the night. I knew tonight was going to feel like the longest night in my life. I sighed and kicked at a rock on the path. I was sick of everything. I hated the way Sergio thought he owned everything here in Tulsa from the minute he roared in on his Harley. I hated the way Sodapop and Two-Bit had to get involved with Sergio and what he had started. We didn't belong with him. Maybe Tim did, but we didn't. Things were just messed up, and had been since well... last week. I decided that I had had just about enough of walking around aimlessly in the dark. I sat down on the grass under a tree, and tried to get a handle on everything. So little time had passed since Sodapop's accident, but so much had happened. Sergio and I were now official rivals, and I'm pretty sure the rest of the gang were following the same path. And by that I mean not Tim. He might not like Sergio, but he still respected him, and wasn't about to give up being a hood just because one guy hacked him off. It was just part of being a hood. Like I said before, I'm not one, and I never will be. Hoods aren't golden I thought. And then I gave in to my tiredness and fell asleep. I dreamed of streetlights and hospital beds.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Chapter 6**_

When I woke up, it was light. I thought vaguely that I had missed the sunrise. When I look back on it, it was a silly thought given the circumstances, but for whatever reason, it seemed really important at the time. I was probably just a little mixed up. Anyone would be. Or maybe they wouldn't, seeing as how the average person doesn't have to deal with watching their brother get shot, while they stand helplessly rooted to the spot, not even being able to wrap their head around what was happening, until it was too late. Like I said, I was a little mixed up. I wondered what Darry was doing right now. Was he worried sick about me? Probably, which wasn't fair. I sighed, and picked myself up from the bench I had moved to during the night. It was right beside the gas station, and I thought it had to be more comfortable than the cold, wet ground. I was wrong. My back was stiff and sore from sleeping on the hard, rough wood, and I felt so sleepy, that I just wanted to crawl back home and sleep forever. But I got to my feet and began to trudge on. Where in the Almighty universe is Two-Bit? I thought to myself. He couldn't have gotten that far-he only had about a good day and a half head start. But Two-Bit can do pretty much anything when he sets his mind to it, and I was pretty sure running away super far where no one could ever find you was no exception. That thought didn't cheer me up any.

I think that if I hadn't stopped at that exact moment to tie the laces on my right sneaker, then I would have missed the faint "Ponyboy." that came from the inside of the gas station. Now, normally, when you hear someone rasping your name from the inside of a dark, small, and temporarily abandoned building, it would be a pretty good signal to beat it out of there, but something was holding me back. I actually wanted to find out who it was. Anyway, what did I have to lose? I turned around and walked toward the gas station. The bells on the door rang cheerfully when I opened and closed the door. They didn't match the overall gloomy theme the inside of the gas station portrayed at all. It was like a bird chirping in the middle of a dark forest, I thought. I looked around. The magazine racks in the middle of the room held many books, newspapers, (that were by now out of date), and comics. Over in the corner were shelves of things like dime candies and chocolate bars and what not. A drink display rested against the far right wall, just beside the cashier counter, and I remember thanking God that it contained Pepsis. I walked over to the display opened the door, and took one out. Popping the cap off, I took a long sip, barely noticing that fact that it was warm, and tasted sort of off. I didn't care. It was still a Pepsi, and I liked it just the same.

"Psst! Hey, Ponyboy!"

I turned around pretty fast, and accidentally spilled the last of what remained of my Pepsi. I wanted to find out who was calling me, what they wanted, and how they knew my name. I couldn't think of a response that wouldn't give away the feeling of dread, and fear that I was beginning to have. What if it was a Soc? Worse, what if it was a Soc who knew Bob? I still wasn't exactly popular with the Socs, and I knew that most of them were dying to get a hold of me if given the opportunity. Of course, they never were, cause of Sodapop and Darry always hanging around me when they sensed that the Socs were in particularly ticked off moods. But now, with Soda bedridden and Darry nowhere near me, they had me all to themselves. A voice I hadn't thought about in a while was suddenly in my head "Need a haircut, Greaser?" A shudder ripped through my body. But one thought cheered me up some. At least I could rule out the Soc who had said that. He had gotten jailed for shoplifting, which everyone found ironic. One down, eight thousand more to go, I thought dully.

"Hey-Pony-" the voice began, but I cut it off. After much thought and consideration, I had finally come up with something to say.

"Yeah?" It didn't sound too bright.

A magazine rack behind me fell with a bang, making me yelp and jump about 50 feet.

Someone yelled a string of every unprintable word I knew, and then, none other than Two-Bit Matthews stepped out from behind a second rack. He was eating a chocolate bar, half of which was on his face, and he had a brown leather jacket on, similar to Dally's. His rusty-colored hair was sticking out in a lot of places, and under any other circumstances, it would have been funny. But right now, I didn't laugh.

"You almost scared me to death!" I told Two-Bit. My heart was still pounding, and I was sure I was as pale as I felt.

That was the idea," Two-Bit replied, casually throwing the wrapper of his chocolate bar on the ground. "Besides, I needed your attention."

"And 'Ponyboy, it's me, Two-Bit,' wouldn't have worked?" I demanded. But I had other things on my mind. "Two-Bit, where did you think you were going?" I asked. Two-Bit's face melted into a frown. He looked as if he wanted to cry, which didn't happen too often. I mean never. Two-Bit never cried. So I was surprised to see the look he wore now. I knew the reason behind it, though.

"I needed to get out," he said, "And you know why!" he added heatedly. "Because of Soda. It was me who pulled that trigger. I didn't mean to, I slipped, and it just happened, and..." He didn't finish. Tears were welling in his eyes, and he brushed them away impatiently. "He did nothing to Sergio." He added some well-chosen adjectives after mentioning the hitchhiker's name. "So I ran. I didn't even think about what I was doing, or where I was going. I couldn't face anyone. I still can't." He looked at me. I think he was afraid I was going to give up and leave him there, or something. I wasn't. I knew that that was not Two-Bit's real side that day. He was above Sergio, and any other hood out there. He wouldn't listen to me if I said anything like that, so I kept my mouth shut.

"Soda's fine, remember?" I told him. Two-Bit looked at me through red eyes.

"He was shot," he told me blankly.

"I know," I replied impatiently, "But he lived. You grazed his shoulder, and he's bedridden for a loss of blood. But he's alive. And he wants you to come home," I added. Two-Bit's face lit up just a little. I couldn't read the flicker of emotion I saw in his eyes. I could tell he was thinking hard about something. Finally he spoke.

"I can't. I can't go back." he said. I looked at him, startled.

"Why not?" I snapped. I didn't mean to sound mean, but I didn't run halfway across the city looking for him because it was good exercise. We missed him, and wanted things to go back to normal. And now he was saying he wasn't coming back? No way.

"Two-Bit." I hated the begging edge in my voice. Whatever it took, I guess. "Why not? We all want you back, man. Sergio's acting like he owns everything and everyone and it's driving us nuts! You know he almost had it out with Steve yesterday?" Okay, so maybe I stretched the truth a little with the last statement, but I needed to convince Two-Bit. I don't think he bought it anyway, because he cocked an eyebrow and looked at me weirdly.

"Steve?" he asked me in doubt, "Well I hope he beat the tar out of Sergio," he added absent mindedly.

"You're coming." I told him.

"You seem very certain," Two-Bit told me. I was. I had made up my mind. Or rather _his_ mind. He was coming because we wanted him to. It was that simple. I could be stubborn, and he knew it.

"Yeah, Two-Bit, you are. We need you. Plus also, Sodapop's worried about you." I replied.

"You need me?" Two-Bit asked in mock surprise. I could tell he was pleased. Leave it to him to find a good side out of something like this.

"Yeah, Two-Bit, we can't live without you. After you stomp Sergio flat, we're going to build you a temple so we can worship you." I said sarcastically. "Happy?"

"Yep." he said, satisfied. "Now bow down to me." Now it was his turn to be sarcastic. Or at least I hoped he was.

"Good," I sighed, "cause we're leaving now."

I took Two-Bit by the arm, and half dragged him out of the gas station. He didn't protest, but I could tell he still wasn't too sure about this whole thing. Neither was I, to tell you the truth. I wondered how Sergio would react. Two-Bit could whip anyone, especially being in the mood he would probably be in when he saw Sergio. Two-Bit was a good fighter-he didn't always play by the rules- but he was good. I had never seen him lose a fight, and I wasn't dying for the day when I would. But Sergio had experience, stupidity, and muscles. The three put together could be bad. Yeah, now that I thought about it, Sergio could really give Two-Bit a run for his money.

"So, do you think I can beat Mr. High-And-Mighty-Herrera?" Two-Bit asked, reading my thoughts.

"Sure," I said, and I noted that it sounded like a question, which I hated, "He doesn't have a blade, and Steve will make sure he doesn't have access to a chain either, so, as long as you don't use either of those, you have a pretty good chance." It was a pretty big speech. I wonder if Two-Bit believed it.

"Yeah, well I don't have anything of that sort, anyway," Two-Bit replied. "I obviously don't have my knife, and I threw my gun away on my way to God knows where I was going. So no sweat. It's all good." His eyes had a glint of an edgy emotion to them, and so I left him alone.

We arrived home way quicker than I expected. Running away from home seemed to take a million years, but I guess it was just because I had no idea where I was going, and so returning home seemed easier. It was mid-day when Two-Bit and I walked up the steps to my house. I suddenly froze. I had no idea how Darry would react seeing me. Two-Bit read my mind.

"I'm guessing you didn't exactly okay the whole "running away to find me" thing with your brothers," he said.

"You could say that," I answered. Two-Bit laughed.

"Well, it was for a good cause, so they probably won't hate you." he told me.

"Thanks," I said sarcastically. I opened the door. Darry was on his feet in a flash. But his reaction wasn't exactly what I had thought it would be. He smiled as he pulled me into a bear hug that was so tight, I couldn't breathe for a moment, even after he let go. Then he slapped Two-Bit on the back, and started to say something to him, but Two-Bit wasn't listening. He was walking over to Soda, who apparently could walk just fine now, as he was moving towards Two-Bit as well. They were talking in hushed voices, and Two-Bit seemed real hesitant at first. He started to relax more and more, however, when he saw that Sodapop wasn't angry. I turned to Darry.

"You're not mad?" I asked, uncertain.

"You honestly think I didn't see you sneaking away when I was talking to Steve?" he asked me. He winked at me. Okay, so my plan had failed miserably, but on the bright side, Darry went along with it. I thought I had had enough surprises to last me a lifetime, but I was still in for one more.

"Sergio left." All of our heads whipped towards the door. There, stood Steve. "Hey, guys." he added.

"He's gone?" I just had to clarify, because I wasn't sure if I had heard Steve correctly. I had, and I knew that even before Steve confirmed that the hitchhiker had left this morning. Steve said that he heard Sergio telling Tim that this was possibly the most boring town he'd been in yet, and I thought _Well sorry for not being entertaining while my brother was dying._ Steve also said that Sergio had told Tim that he didn't regret anything that had happened, and that it was Sodapop's fault for being in the bullet's way. That made me mad, but it made Soda laugh, which was all that counted. Two-Bit shook his head.

"Well," he said, "He was a true joy to have around. Anyway, I think this calls for something special. Something we haven't done in ages." Then smiling, he continued, "Want to walk to the park?"

"No." Sodapop sighed, sitting down. Two-Bit's face fell, and I thought Sodapop wasn't feeling good, and that he'd have to go back to the hospital or something. Instead, Sodapop was grinning from ear to ear.

"Let's _race_ to the park," he said. I laughed, and Two-Bit did his best to look mad, but still ended up grinning anyway. Then Darry said that if we raced, he'd kill us all, so walking to the park was starting to look real good. As I got up to leave, I noticed Two-Bit laughing and goofing off with Steve in the yard. No doubt about it, the old Two-Bit was back. Who knew it would take a hitchhiker to make us realize that even though we had lost some members in the past, our gang was still as strong as always, and that we wouldn't let anything, hood or not, come between us again. So, in a way, I guess I owed Sergio a thank-you. I would have to remember that the next time I saw him. I smiled as I headed out the door. Just as I was

about to catch up with the others, I felt a hand on my shoulder. It was Two-Bit. He looked at me. Then he leaned down so he was just the right height to whisper in my ear.

"Hey," he said, "Do I still get a temple?"


End file.
